


According to Plan

by Twisted_Mind



Series: Kinktober 2019 Collection [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Cis Female Stiles Stilinski, Consensual Non-Consent, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Gun Kink, Hunters & Hunting, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Rape Roleplay, Scott is a Good Friend, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: The latest hunter fanatic—a tall, gormless-looking dude wearing some seriously bad plaid—catches her expression and scowls. “Hey, Argent. Best get to interrogating this one here so we can get the intel we need to get moving.”Showtime.





	According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 12: CNC/Rape Roleplay + Gun Kink. This is late because it wound up way longer than intended, which threw off the schedule. But better late than never, right?
> 
> **Please note**:This one is darker than some of the others, so heed the tags and be careful with yourselves. If you're interested but need more info, details are in the end notes.

Stiles hisses like a cat as she and Scott are hauled down the stairs to the hunters’ basement. (What is it with these types and basements? Honestly.) It’s not until the short, barrel-chested guy dragging Scott barks, “Cooperate, or your little mutt cops a wolfsbane bullet in the nuts,” that she stops fighting.

The fact that it’s Chris means she wasn’t fighting that hard—as evidenced by the fact that she left both his eyes _and_ his junk alone—but she glares at the fuckface putting his filthy hands on Scott. “Leave him alone,” she growls, and the guy _laughs_.

She’d be pissed about being dismissed like that if this wasn’t all according to plan.

As it is, she doesn’t do more than bare her teeth when Scotty’s shoved into a holding cell and the door leading back upstairs is covered with mountain ash. The latest hunter fanatic—a tall, gormless-looking dude wearing some seriously bad plaid—catches her expression and scowls. “Hey, Argent. Best get to interrogating this one here so we can get the intel we need to get moving.”

Showtime.

Chris spins her so she’s facing Scott, and he presses in tight against her back, one arm wrapped around her throat. “So, here’s the thing, sweetpea,” he murmurs, and she shivers at the tone. The gravelly Serious Business tone does things to her. “Everyone here knows that a wolf is more animal than human. Too loyal. Won’t give up their Alpha, can’t. It’s part of the taint, though a little stronger in the born than the bitten.”

His other hand comes up and slowly pulls down the zip of her jacket. “So you see, we’ve learned that the best way to get the information we need is through the human packmates.” They all ignore the derisive scoff from the hunter on the other side of the room. “You’re more fragile, less resilient than the wolves, don’t have the animal’s devotion to their Alpha.”

Stiles rolls her eyes. It’s not even an exaggeration—she’s heard this rhetoric before, and it’s always eye-roll-worthy garbage. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to give up my pack just because I’m human.”

“You will if you know what’s good for you,” Short ‘n Stocky snarls from the doorway. When she looks, his face seems almost hungry for what’s going on here, and she doesn’t have to fake her revulsion.

“Right, sure. Say, for a moment, I lose my fucking mind and tell you what you want to know. Then what? You let me walk out of here with my boy over there?” She jerks her chin to towards Scott, and Short ‘n Stocky sneers. “Yeah,” she drawls, eyes narrowing, “that’s what I thought.”

“Does anyone want to hear what I think?” Chris asks, and it’s light, almost playful, except for the part where he’s exuding menace like he majored in it at hunter school.

She doesn’t bother to hold in her smirk. “Well, no, but I’m sure you’re gonna share with the class anyway.”

Scott hisses at her, Short ‘n Stocky takes a step forward, and Bad Plaid in the corner glowers. Chris snakes a hand up her shirt and nips sharply at her ear. She jerks away from that, hates having her ears touched. “I think that, when you have a very stubborn human packmate, a wolf, and a little time, the best thing you can do is break them a little. Just enough that they don’t want to fight you anymore, that they’ll cooperate.”

Bad Plaid hums. “I mean, we’ve got the standard gear for the mutts—generator, jumper cables, cuffs—but I dunno if she’ll hold up under that long enough for us to get anything out of her. Tends to be a crapshoot.”

Stiles files away that little tidbit for later. Hopefully her dad can check the unsolved files and link these assholes back to some bodies.

Chris just chuckles. “No, no. If you want to break them—especially the strong ones, like this little slip of a thing here,” he manhandles her into the middle of the room, peeling her out of her jacket, and bends her over the table there. “You need a personal touch.”

He drags his big hand up the outside of her thigh, tucking his thumb up under the hem of her skirt. Her breath catches, skin tingling under the drag of his calluses. She hears the slide of leather, and then Chris lies his favourite handgun down on the table, barrel pointed toward her. “See, sweetpea, there’s an easy way to do this, and a hard way. I’m a very persuasive man when I need to be, and you won’t like it if I have to persuade you. So what’ll be?”

Her heart is starting to pound for a lot of reasons, but she spits out, “Go to hell,” and is proud of the way her voice stays steady.

“See, now that’s unfortunate. Because I know you’re the daughter of a cop,” Bad Plaid startles at this—she can’t see the other one—and she knows then that these two didn’t do their research before showing up here. “Which means I can’t send you back to daddy with any obvious marks. However,” he kicks her feet apart, and slides his big hand between her legs to cup her through her underwear, “there is another method that I have at my disposal.” He kneads roughly, and her gasp is genuine. He’s not being gentle with her.

“C’mon, little lady,” Short ‘n Stocky croons. “Just tell us who your Alpha is and where we can find him. You can avoid all this real easy.”

Scott’s been quiet up til now, but he murmurs her name urgently, obviously uncomfortable with where this is going.

It’s possible she didn’t let him in on all of the details of their plan. Then again, he didn’t ask.

She ignores him for now, and makes a show of trying to fight back. Before she can do much, Chris has got the barrel of his gun pressed up under her jaw. He’s still kneading between her thighs, his middle finger rubbing up and down along her clit, and she’s already getting wet.

“Oh God,” she whimpers. “Not that.”

“Mhm, that’s how this is going to go down, unless you tell us what it is we need to know.”

She squirms, but the gun just moves from under her jaw to the back of her neck, and she says a silent prayer of thanks that the safety’s on. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Chris, but she grew up getting gun safety hammered into her head every summer vacation. The last thing they need right now is an accidental misfire.

Chris flips her skirt up. “Last chance to cash in on my offer, sweetpea. There’s still the easy way.”

She grits her teeth, and stays silent. The look on Bad Plaid’s face says he didn’t expect this, doesn’t know what to think. That might matter later, but for now, Chris pops the button on his jeans and unzips with one hand, because the barrel of the gun never wavers from where it’s pressed to the back of her neck. Stiles clenches her jaw so she doesn’t make a sound as Chris tugs her underwear to the side.

He rubs the head of his cock over her folds, slicking it up. To the whackjobs they’re in the room with, it probably looks like psychological torture. In reality, it’s just sexual torture, because as shit as the circumstances are, her body knows his hands and voice, and responds, which means she needs his cock in her about five minutes ago.

At her continued silence, Chris murmurs, “Hard way it is,” before starting to slowly sink inside. Her breath catches at the stretch, because Chris isn’t exactly small.

This, predictably, is the part where Scott loses it. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you _dare_!”

Short ‘n Stocky scoffs. “She had the chance to avoid it, mutt. She brought it on herself.”

(Charming.)

Stiles tunes out Scott’s outrage, and chooses to focus on what sounds she’s making, stifling her moans and letting out little high-pitched whimpers. She needs these idiots to think she’s in pain and distress rather than being railed just right in the wrongest possible way.

On a particularly brutal inward thrust, she loses control and lets out a little cry. Chris huffs, amused. “You ready to talk yet, sweetpea?”

She gasps as he nails her g-spot like the manipulative dick he is. “F-fuck you,” she chokes out.

He has the audacity to laugh _and_ maintain his rhythm. The stamina on him, Jesus. If she weren’t benefitting from it on a regular basis, she’d be pissed on principle. “You first,” he murmurs, continuing to nail her g-spot.

It doesn’t take long before an orgasm starts building in her pelvis, making her shake. She’s desperately trying to keep her noises in, and between that and the trembling, she probably looks like a broken mess to the morons who don’t know any better.

Scott continues to sound outraged, which. He probably is, but she had to explain to him what the clit is when they were twelve, so he can deal.

The barrel of the gun moving from her neck to slide down her spine catches her attention. “God, you feel good,” Chris sighs. “It’s a damn shame you were this stubborn, but I’m not complaining.”

She opens her mouth to retort—because impending orgasm or not, she’s not gonna let that slide—but then he’s grinding deep as he groans, cock flexing as he comes. The hot gush combined with the fingers he slides over her clit make her come like a freight train. It’s so intense she cries with it, which is good, because blowing their cover at this point would be a goddamn disaster.

Chris doesn’t give her any time to recover, pulling out and tucking himself back in his pants before hauling her upright and over to the cell they’re keeping Scott in. “Lock her up.”

Bad Plaid frowns. “With the mutt? You sure that’s a good idea?”

Chris nods curtly. “Yep. You want to break them? Hurt them, let their packmate offer some comfort, then when you come back for round two, you keep them apart. Works like a charm.”

Short ‘n Stocky grunts, unlocking the cell with a gun trained on Scott’s face. “If you say so. Toss her in.”

Chris gives her a rough shove, and Scott catches her. She clings to him, and it’s not entirely for show. Her legs ache and don’t want to hold her.

“Now we wait?”

Chris nods. “Now we wait. But while we’re doing that, why don’t we go upstairs? I’m interested in hearing more about what methods you two have used, and I’m not against sharing some of what I know.”

Short ‘n Stocky squints at him for a moment, but then nods. As they file upstairs, Scott exhales shakily against her ear. “You’re disgusting, I hope you know that,” he mutters, but it’s fond.

“Love you, too.”

His arms wrap around her tighter as he shifts, taking more of her weight. “You’re okay, right?”

She grins against his collarbone. “Yeah, Scotty. We’d talked it over, knew it was the safest way for it to look like I was being tortured. We planned ahead.”

“Explains the skirt, I guess.” Before she can respond to that, he tilts his head. “Sounds like Chris is getting the rundown from them, so I guess it worked?”

“My plans usually do. Now tell me what you can hear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Additional Info: Chris and Stiles are together, and have been a while. The rape roleplay scene they engage in was explicitly consented to beforehand, and took place in front of the OC hunter characters as part of an undercover fact-finding mission. Stiles is not subjected to any physical violence, aside from some manhandling. She is not stripped, verbally humiliated, bound, photographed, or otherwise degraded. She is threatened, by Chris, with a gun, with the safety on. She is not touched--sexually or otherwise--by the OC hunter characters. Because of the nature of their undercover mission, Scott is present for the CNC scene, and to provide backup and check-in with Stiles afterwards, because Chris cannot provide aftercare. 
> 
> Fun fact: Torture pretty much never works in real life. Human beings are creatures with deep-seated "fuck you" responses, and studies have shown, time and time again, that torture is not an effective interrogation technique. Torture causes severe, lasting physical and psychological effects, but it effectively produces nothing but resistance in those who suffer it. The concept of "breaking", referred to here is not accurately shown, and is fundamentally conceptually flawed.  
  
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